


I haven't shown you everything a man can do

by mrs_laugh_track



Category: Pro Wrestling Guerrilla, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_laugh_track/pseuds/mrs_laugh_track
Summary: A conversation post Mystery Vortex V and conversation post Neon Knights. Subjects include blowjobs and cranking it (nice), personal growth (nice!), but also lots of bad feelings (less nice).





	I haven't shown you everything a man can do

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Veroniques. Title from This Is The Time by Billy Joel.

1/12/18

Chuck’s not sure exactly where him and Ricochet stand. They hugged and cried, but Ricochet also hit him in the head with a garbage can about fifty times.

“Hey everyone else get the hell out of the room,” Chuck hollers, “we’ve got Kentucky business to take care of.” 

Chuck figures that ought to clear the room, if there’s one thing people out here are afraid of, it’s Kentucky business. 

People kind of shuffle out. Zack says, extremely disrespectfully, “If you want to talk to Ricochet privately you can just ask like a normal person.” He knows that okay, and Zack Sabre can fuck off. He also knows that he’s not here to just talk to Ricochet. At least he hopes not. 

The moment stretches out longer than he means it to. Ricochet is just looking at him slightly amused. Not at all like a guy who just lost his title. Though really, he’s not just a guy who lost his title, he’s also a guy who’s about to move up in the world. Chuck stifles the thought that Ricochet let him win. You don’t drop a guy into that many tacks if you’re not trying to win. Not that there’s a set number of tacks people who are trying to throw matches use.

He’s gonna make Chuck talk first, which is frankly a little spiteful. Chuck considers waiting him out, neither of them has ever been able to last long at this game. He talks.

“You said I did literally everything for you, way to make me sound like a mom out there.”

“I mean dude, you were kind of a mom.” 

He hadn’t done that much. Sent out a few videos. So what? Ricochet was stupid and didn’t know how to get himself booked despite being whatever kind of freak of nature he is. Chuck needed the video editing practice anyway. And yeah okay, he drove them everywhere. Maybe he just didn’t trust Ricochet behind the wheel.

“Well, if you think of me as a mom then shit, that’s gonna make this next part weird for mama.”

“Oh god, mama? That’s worse than papa bear. Is this a thing now?”

“Yeah you know what? It’s good. It’s fun. Mama likes it. Mama’s keeping it. ”

Ricochet opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something and mama frankly does not have time for that nonsense today.

“Can you shut up for one goddamn minute, I’m here to suck your dick, okay?”

Much to his dismay Ricochet doesn’t seem to go into a swoon, overcome with lust. Maybe the reaction would have been better if he hadn’t just called himself mama like ten times.

He definitely should have lead with the blowjob.

“Are you okay Chuck?”

“Of course I am. I’m the strongest man alive. Plus, Trent got all my tacks out.”

“That’s good. Weird, but good.”

“I mean someone helped you with your tacks right? At least mine weren’t all in my butt. Did you pick tacks out of your own butt? Oh no, that’s so sad, man.” 

Ricochet is wearing the expression of a man who absolutely picked thumbtacks out of his own butt. 

“No, I mean are you…”

“Am I what?” 

Maybe Chuck shouldn’t snap at him, but if he asks _are you okay_ in that voice again Chuck is gonna scream. 

Ricochet rolls his eyes.

“Have you ever even sucked a dick before?”

This is probably just Ricochet trying to cover for being embarrassed about having tacks in his butt. Jokes on him, Chuck’s definitely sucked dicks.

“Yeah man, like, three.”

“I don’t think that’s a lot?”

“More than you.”

Ricochet looks embarrassed again, but Chuck’s not sure if it’s because he’s right, or because he’s wrong. Has Ricochet just been living it up in dong city this whole time without even telling him? Stupid little dipshit tack-butt dick-sucking handsome Ricochet.

“Can we not do this? Not tonight? Next time, okay. Next time I see you. Then you can go down on me and I can live out a fantasy I’ve had for my entire adult life and-”

Chuck has some stuff he wants to say to that. Ricochet cuts him off. So rude.

“No listen, it’s my turn to talk now. You don’t get to act like you’re never gonna see me again. I’m not dying, you’re not dying. Nobody is leaving you. You just hung out with Drew like last weekend. NXT goes on tours, you’re a Ring of Honor guy now, you’ll tour. Anyway you can always come visit me. We’ll see each other. I don’t want your ‘tragic self pity about never going to the WWE’ blowjob.”

He’s not sure when Ricochet got so insightful, it’s unnerving. Does he go to therapy? He’s talking like he goes to therapy. Is that another thing he managed to accomplish first? Whatever. Chuck is a mature grown up who doesn’t even probably need much therapy. He’s smart enough to understand that nobody is abandoning him when they take contracts where they’ll, at most, see Chuck briefly in passing. Besides it’s already been a long-ass time since he wrestled with Ricochet regularly. There’s nothing self pitying about wanting to give Ricochet a goodbye mouthdog. That’s just being a good friend. 

“Maybe I’m just a really great friend who wants to show I’m not mad at you for trying to destroy my brain tonight. Anyway, I don’t think I even want to go to the WWF anymore.”

It’s almost true. He’s just started to get a good thing going out on his own. Trent makes the place sound like hell anyway. It’d be nice to be wanted though. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spend a lot of time imagining himself dramatically turning them down.

Ricochet puts one hand on Chuck’s shoulder and the other on Chuck’s face. His dumb fancy eyebrows crumple up in the middle a little. 

“Don’t give up. Dreams are hard, but they’re worth it.”

He sort of pats the back of Chuck’s head in a condescending consoling way. Ricochet thinks he’s so inspirational. He is the absolute worst. 

Great. He just wanted to suck an old friend’s dick just this one first and last time, is that so much to ask? Now he’s all annoyed. 

“Maybe your dreams aren’t everyone else’s dreams,” Chuck says, “you ever think of that? Look, how about we just go back to you talking about how me sucking your dick is pretty much your number one all time fantasy.”

“I never said number one or all time.”

“But, you really have thought about it?”

“Duh. I’ve been thinking about it for over a decade.”

“What? Specifically? Specifically a blowjob or what?”

“You really need to know specifically?”

“I’m the champion, you have to tell me.”

“That’s not how it works, but okay. You’ve seen your mouth right? Like, you know how it looks? There’s… I just wanna put something in it.”

Obviously Chuck has never thought about his own big weird mouth that way. He wants to find a mirror immediately. Then he realizes something.

“Is this why you filled my mouth with tacks and kicked me in the face? Pervert.”

Ricochet looks supremely embarrassed. Good. Tacks in a person’s mouth. Who does that?

“Don’t laugh okay, but I thought it was our dream. The WWE, not the blowjob. I thought the blowjob was just my dream. But the WWE, I didn’t think it was my dream, I thought it was like, us, together.”

Chuck’s pretty sure they never talked about it in those terms. Apparently that’s how Ricochet thought about it. The two of them, side by side. 

This would be so much easier if Ricochet were the only asshole here. 

He doesn’t suck Ricochet’s dick. 

Instead he hugs him again. Just like in the ring. Kisses the top of his stupid tiny head. Tells him again just how great he’s gonna do. Doesn’t even flinch before smiling at him. Heads back to his room and sleeps for 11 hours.

\-- --

2/16/18

Chuck Taylor defeats Trent to retain his PWG Championship.

Driving away he looks at his belt in the passenger seat. “Guess you’re my best friend now, little guy.” He laughs. It sounds too normal, he tries to laugh hysterically, as would fit the moment. He should sound hollow and shattered. He tries again. It sounds fake, but normal fake. 

He drives around aimlessly. What’s he gonna do, sleep? Not likely. 

His phone beeps. It’s a text from Ricochet.

You know what? 2018 social conventions be goddamned, he wants to talk to someone. Preferably someone who isn’t judgemental about hitting people with the PWG belt. Which, after their last match, it would take some nerve for Ricochet to be. Ricochet’s always had a lot of fucking nerve though. Doesn’t matter, he’s already calling.

“Ricochet you son of a bitch! Calling to congratulate me?”

“You called me?”

“Yeah, but you texted me first. So.”

“Are you… Are you okay man? I hear things got kind of weird in there.”

And there’s the hysterical laughter he was waiting for. Apparently he needed an audience for it. 

“Kind of weird. You could say that.”

He takes a deep breath. Damn Ricochet. Damn the last 16 years.

“I think... I think I fucked up really bad.” It comes out too easy. Maybe it’s Ricochet. Maybe he’s just a guy who’s open about his feelings now. That’d be cool. It’s probably that he’s talking to Ricochet.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

It’s not okay. Ricochet hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen it. He’s not gonna see it for another two months or however long it takes for the DVD to come out. Maybe not even then. Does Ricochet even watch shows he’s not on? Probably not.

“We’re supposed to tag in Japan next weekend.”

“Good. Go tell him you’re sorry.”

“He probably knows I’m sorry.”

“Tell him anyway.”

“You never told me you were sorry for saying I’m fat and a bad wrestler.”

Ricochet just starts laughing. What a piece of shit.

“Hey! It’s not funny. I’m sensitive.” 

“No you’re not, you’re just self involved.” 

Getting called self involved by Ricochet is, perhaps, a new low.

“Takes one to know one,” Chuck un-brilliantly retorts.

“Speaking of taking one,” Ricochet laughs at his own shitty segue, “I wish I’d taken you up on that blowjob.”

“Really? You sweet talker.”

“No man, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. And… I want you to know, I cranked thinking about you on WWE company time. I’m sorry, maybe that’s weird to say. I thought it was going to be cool and hot.”

“No I’m into it. I’m like... Really into it. Am I too into it? Is that pathetic?”

“I’m the one who said it in the first place.”

“Ricochet, buddy, I always think you’re being a little pathetic.”

“Love you Chuckie.”

Chuck wonders when they all started saying I love you. He remembers being young, which he guesses makes him old now, but when he was young he wouldn’t have ever told a friend he loved them. Now he says it all the time. They all do.

“Love you too big cat. Hope you’re having fun in the performance center. Gonna go to town on your hog one of these days.” 

“If you say so. Just go make things right with Trent. It can’t be that bad. Last time you almost killed each other and everything was fine. Look at us, we’re fine and it’s not like we didn’t nearly kill each other twice. Hell, more than twice if we're not just counting these last few months.”

Chuck is pretty sure that things are less complicated for Ricochet than they are for most people. Maybe when you can actually fly you just assume you’re gonna land on your feet.

Still, Chuck feels better after talking to him.

\-- --

2/23/18

He goes to Japan. He tells Trent, "you're gonna bring home the gold." He tells Trent about how the Beer City Bruiser is a real piece of shit. He tells Trent that even though his titty is mostly detached it still looks great.

He doesn’t manage to tell Trent he’s sorry. Mania weekend, Chuck promises himself, he’ll tell him Mania weekend.


End file.
